


The Harp

by TEC



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Magical Creatures, Magical Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 03:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TEC/pseuds/TEC
Summary: His mother's life on the line, a boy sets off to save her, his canine companion by his side. On the journey to get a sacred music instrument that is said to have the ability to change the weather, and free its people from the bitter cold, the boy is led to the object of his desires.The Pull is far stronger than the Push.





	The Harp

**Author's Note:**

> And now, here. Witness what I gave to my Eighth Grade English teacher, with a few minor edits. I cannot tell you how proud I was, when I turned this in. It was the biggest one, by far, in the class, and I was worried the teacher would take off points for it being too big. They did not. I was all kinds of happy and please when I wrote, and I still hold a bit of author love for the story I worked so hard on, at the time. Be amazed at my naivety of all things writing. Be amazed! And be very afraid!

The boy and his dog walked through the frosty grass, each blade crunching loudly underfoot, each crunch punctuating each mistake. The sky was perfectly clear, too clear, not a single stroke of white on the light blue canvas, the sun in the sky seeming to mock him with nonexistent warmth.

The expanse of land that the boy and his dog lived on was always frozen over, the grass—if there was any—always crunched, and the branches of trees always had knives and skewers of ice, the wind shaking the branches, threatening anyone to even dare come close, for as long as the boy could remember, no day was given the bath of warmth it so desperately wanted and needed.

Except on one day of the year.

On that day, the ice thaws, revealing all of nature’s wonderful flaws. The grass becomes green miraculously fast, the branches of trees mystically grow bright green leaves–not a single ice sickle to be found! The lake completely melts, revealing gorgeous blue water that is always warmed by the sun, never cold like in winter. And the wind.

The wind practically sings with life! Every gust carrying a gentle, fragile song that could put any musician to shame, so much so, that it has created a legend–a legend that says that there is a harp, a harp deep in the woods where it is said the ponds are toxic and the plants are poison, where only fierce predators reside–protecting the harp according to legend–and would jump at the chance for a tasty human. But, if you found the harp, you would melt the land to what it once was, a lush, beautiful land with green for miles around, not the cold bitter place where it rarely even snowed, just unforgiving ice and frost.

That was where the boy was heading, and he so far had not been denied.

William–for that was his name–and his only friend, Sarun, who had showed up on his family’s doorstep with a note that said his peculiar name, when he was a pup and the boy a toddler, had been braving the vicious forest for a whole week, more than anyone before them, for any other had either given up or...disappeared.

William kept going by thinking of his family who taught him bravery, loyalty and honesty were the most important things a person could have in their heart.

Now, because of that heart, his mother was in bed, sick, in dire need of warmth–which they cannot have–and medicine–which they cannot find nor grow–the harp was his mother’s one chance.

William still cursed at himself for being so stupid. A dare, that was the reason his mother was ill, another boy dared him to go out into the unforgiving cold for as long as possible. 

And he actually did it. He jumped at the chance to impress the other boys and practically flew out the door, he almost froze to death, his body shutting down almost instantly from the cold alone, the biting wind only made it worse. His mother immediately went after him once she found out, and carried his frozen body to the house. He survived, he had to make sure his mother did to.

Sarun, who had stayed because of loyalty and sheer will, suddenly perked his ears, picking up a strange sound, and by the way his tail was wagging, it was a most pleasant sound.

“Sarun, wait!” William cried, chasing after his bolting dog.

William kept running blindly through the freezing forest, in fear that his one companion might run straight into one of the many bears, wolves, cougars, coyotes or vicious foxes that they had run into during their travel here. But what could he do? He was all alone‒

“Oof!” William said when he slipped and landed–head first!

“Ow,” was the only thing his mind could process enough to say, pain seeming to be a liquid that was now rushing around his skull in furious currents.

When he got up, he looked curiously down on whatever ice patch he slipped on, even though he hadn’t slipped on ice in three years. Living in an icy wasteland taught you how to keep your footing on that kind of terrain.

William gasped when he saw what he slipped on–mud! Which meant there was  _ flowing  _ water nearby!

The excited young boy got up as quickly as he could without slipping again, not at all used to maneuvering on slippery mud at all. He walked briskly in the direction he last saw Sarun ran in.

The change was immediately noticeable, once he was not distracted from chasing his dog. The air was warmer, the branches on the trees had less and less snow and the lethal horns of ice became smaller and smaller, until William stepped into the middle of the path and stopped, an odd feeling settling in his chest as he looked ahead not knowing whether or not to continue.

A soft rustle to his left made him jerk his head in the direction of the noise, fearing it was another, but hopeful that it was Sarun.

A little creature, no bigger than a pinky, was standing on what appeared to be a hidden deer trail, so obscure that he would have completely glanced over it, if it not had made a sound and drawn his attention to it. It had a small, lithe little body, with small but piercing blue eyes, it had tiny saber-tooth teeth attached to a round head with large round ears, its legs long and the claws were surprisingly long and looked to be wickedly sharp for such a tiny creature, it did not stand on its hind legs, like a mouse would do, but stood on all fours, giving it the appearance of a cat—with round ears, saber-tooth fangs, and abnormally long claws, as well as being obscenely small for its intimidating appearance, William was starting to think that was the point. It was covered in shining silver fur with a pure white belly, not matter at all by dirt and grime like the other predators that were filthy, in fact, this thing seemed to be untouched by any kind of dust or dirt. There were striking blue-grey markings on its sides, the front of its face, and tails.

Tails?

William didn’t imagine it, this tiny creature had  _ two  _ tails, each with the pretty blue-grey markings. The only difference was the right tail had a snowy white tip, while the other was so yellow, it almost looked  _ green _ .

It squeaked—a surprisingly sweet sound, like music, but too beautiful to be made by humans—turned around, and ran further down the hidden deer trail.

William didn’t pause to question his actions, just followed the little animal to wherever it was going.

It looked back and squeaked in what appeared to be delight and waited for the boy to catch-up, the boy in awe at the blossoming trees, all the flowers looking down at him in curiosity while dancing to the notes carried by the wind, all the trees and flowers making a tunnel with seemingly no end. 

How did he not notice this? All these brightly colored and dancing flowers should have been more than noticeable, even if he was distracted by the struggle of keeping pace with his companion. He watched the trees and flowers like they would answer him, listening closely to the rustle of the leaves, as if he could catch the whispered conversation between them if he tried hard enough.

Another squeak rudely kicked him out of his thoughts, and he turned around to run to his odd little guide.

They walked in the beautiful tunnel of trees in comfortable silence, the small animal expecting the boy to follow, and William, accepting his fate and giving in to his curiosity, followed.

William soon saw the end of the tunnel. 

From a distance, William just saw a splotch if red at the end, but as he walked closer, he soon realized that it was a wall of red roses bushes, all beautifully woven together in intricate patterns flawlessly, their thorns gleaming threatening, as if nature knew this exact tunnel needed this exact kind of block to keep whatever was outside  _ out. _

William looked at her—he assumed it was her—questioningly. She only squeaked in reply and dove in the bushes, as if the sharp thorns meant nothing to her.

He shrugged, not knowing what else to do. He bent down to try and find the safest place to crawl through. He soon saw that the thorns weren’t sharp, like he assumed, they were just smooth stubs of plant matter. He crawled through the bushes, trying his best not to crush the blood-red flowers, a few lost some petals, but none were brutally stomped.

When he stood up to brush himself off pollen for the first time in his life, he stopped mid-brush in shock at what was before him. It was the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

A clearing, not big, but full of life nonetheless, was teeming with living. Trees of every kind he could imagine were melded together, creating a wall that not even an entire army of woodcutters could chopped down, and were surrounding the entire clearing, the scent of tree syrup and honey from a hive of daring bees mixed in with perfume the flowers were giving freely. A small spring was gushing with warm, clear water that seemed to give all the plants around the resources needed to protect the harp.

The harp.

Sarun appeared beside William, not impressed and only pawed at his nearly hysterical owner.

William only gaped in awe at his last hope. It was not a golden harp legend described, but that did not make it any less beautiful to William. The base was made oak wood, little markings of animals, plants, water, wind, and sun covered the entire polished wooden surface.

The strings were different, they were made of diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and many other precious metals and gems. Each note made was like listening to nature sing itself, like all the instruments nature uses, from the gust of wind, to the rush of water, to the rustle of leaves, but all magnified and in harmony. He didn’t feel good enough to have this wonderful feeling spread through him.

He looked at his guide that had perched on his shoulder while he was processing what was in front of him. She seemed to nod before she ran toward the harp, resting on a mossy rock that was near the spring.

He held his breath as he walked toward the harp. The forest seemed to go disturbingly quiet as he walked forward, all hushing as the boy walked toward one thing that might save his mother.

He almost fell into the spring, a bout a dizziness crashing into him. He jumped when birds began screeching loudly in protest, the sound deafening, and several growls and squeaks could be heard from between the small openings in the wall of trees. He jumped back, away from the spring, and the forest hushed once again, the danger passing. William looked fearfully at Sarun who had lowered his eyes, looking around fearfully and whining at the sudden outburst of loud. 

William looked at his guide, who was just looking at him with a blank look, emotions completely blocked for what was next. It unnerved William far more than he was willing to admit, what was even happening, what was he missing?

He breathed in deep, blew it out slowly to settle his nerves, then—much to the forest’s displeasure—ran forward, almost falling into the spring several times, the harp was on a little pile of rocks in the middle of the spring and he felt so close to it. He stayed near the stream, regardless of the danger. The birds screeched with frustration every time he slipped or stumbled, the growls and squeaks grew with remorse every time he nearly fell and came ever closer so the spring blindly, the animals clawing at the openings to make them bigger in order to help the young boy to no avail. Maybe that was when William figured out what was happening.

The spring was  _ pulling him closer!  _ William tried to step away from it, to only discover in horror that he couldn’t move away, he could step closer, but it was like his body did not want to get away from the water, no matter how much his mind tried to get his legs to move, he had no choice, he had to keep going.

He, at first walked, but when he realized that made him get closer at a faster rate, he stopped to think. He looked ahead, at the harp, wondering if it was worth it. Was it? Was it worth his life? Yes. The answer startled him, it was! He had to get that harp, save his mother and make sure no one else died from the blasted ice again!

The realization filled William with determination he didn’t knew he had and he ran forward, not knowing if the screeches and growls were of encouragement...or remorse, he just closed his eyes and waited for salvation or death, whichever fate picked for him.

The forest was quiet when his hand reached for the harp and grasped it for the first time in too long.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for dealing with that torture, I appreciate the fact that you took the time to read this trash. It is good to know, that this is the last of my old stories and, looking forward, I will only post original, or at least new, works. So, now the torture is only concentrated to the present, and you don't have to read the awful, ambitious mess that are my old works.  
I feel I might go back some day and just rewrite all these messes, give them the love they deserve. Until then...  
Now, if you excuse me, I am going to go through the BOOK, The Count of Monte Cristo.  
Happy Writing, and Reading, Bookworms!


End file.
